Jack
by a-lovely-young-lady
Summary: A one-shot based off of the costume party in 4x04; Bonnie Bennett is a Victorian prostitute who catches the eye of the most notorious serial killer of all time...Jack the Ripper.


**A/N: this was meant to be me getting into the festive spirit and trying to overcome writer's block, but it's a bit...creepy. sorry. I sincerely apologise to those reading my other stories but I am having such a tough time figuring out where I want them to go. I don't want to force it but I think I've written about 3 lines on each since my last updates. please forgive me, I will try my utmost not to abandon those two. meanwhile, here's a thing I wrote. it's a bit of a mess and definitely not entirely accurate, but...yeah  
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He had been stalking her for a few weeks now. Unlike the girls before her, this one had truly captured his fascination. She was a small one, barely reaching his chin without her heels. Her smooth caramel skin was clothed in a miniscule dress, her long legs encased in a pair of obscenely high heels in which she manoeuvred with a surprising amount of grace. Her dress was low cut, revealing an enticing amount of cleavage without exposing too much skin to be considered downright indecent, even as she stood in the doorway to the well-known brothel. She was a diamond in the rough, a sparkling jewel surrounded by dull charcoal.

She called to him.

Brushing his hands down his coat, he pulled the buttons closed as he pushed off of the wall, emerging from the shadows to approach the young woman with the enchanting green eyes. As he neared, his path was intercepted by a doe-eyed brunette, her smirk sultry as she trailed a hand down his chest, her long nails venturing dangerously close to his manhood.

"What can I do for you, darlin'?" Her hot breath wafted across his face, her heavy scent permeated the air around them. He glanced past her to see the object of his attention disappear into the brothel, a man's heavy arm slung over her shoulders.

Hmm…_maybe next time._

Smiling down at the young girl before him, he twisted a lock of her flat brown hair around his finger.

"I'm just looking for a good time, sweetness." She smirked wider, stepping closer and boldly gripping him through his trousers.

"Well, you came to the right place."

* * *

><p>He slammed the lid of the heavy trunk shut, locking it for good measure. Grimacing slightly at the blood staining his hands, he pushed against it, the rocks in the bottom making it hard to move. Eventually he reached the end of the dock and the chest fell into the ocean with a splash, sinking to the bottom never to be seen again.<p>

_Goodbye, Miss Elena Gilbert. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance._

* * *

><p>Two nights later, he was back outside the brothel, waiting for any sight of his dark-skinned fantasy as he smoked on a cigarette. When she finally came into view, he extinguished the cigarette, straightening as he moved towards her.<p>

"Good evening, ma'am." He took her hand, bowing slightly as he leant in to kiss the back of her palm. Her skin smelt sweet, like honey and sweat; it was a stark contrast to the odour perpetually lingering over the city streets.

"Good evening, sir." Her voice was just as sweet, gentle and quiet without a hint of the brash accent most _women of the night_ possessed in these parts. "How can I help you?" He smiled, feigning embarrassment.

"I'm looking for a…companion for the evening." She smiled kindly, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Of course. Come in, I'm sure that we can find someone suitable to…_keep you company_." Frowning slightly, he moved in closer.

"Well, see…I was hoping that _you_ would warm my bed tonight." Blushing, she looked around at the woman close-by, their eyes greedily drinking in the handsome man who was _oh-so-close_ to her.

"Well…sir, I'm still quite new at this…I haven't actually…_been_ with any men yet. Not to mention that Madame is wary of letting us girls go off anymore, seeing as last week, one girl left and never came back." He smothered a grin at the mention of the dead prostitute that he had left in pieces at the bottom of the river. Slipping back into his persona, he looked down in a display of faux bashfulness.

"I've…I've never been to a place like this before. Honestly, you look the least intimidating out of all the women here. Maybe…maybe we could just talk for a while?" A gentle smile spread across her lips and she nervously tucked a lock of wild, curly hair behind her ear.

"That sounds wonderful." She stuck a hand out to shake. "I'm Bonnie Bennett." He grasped it firmly in his hand, shaking it once before entwining their fingers.

"Damon…Salvatore, but everyone calls me Jack." She frowned.

"Jack? That's an odd nickname." He laughed quietly.

"Yeah, it is." Offering his arm, he looked up at the evening sky. "Would you like to take a walk with me? It's a beautiful night." She slipped a dainty hand into his hold, snuggling closer to him and replying with a giggle.

"I would love to, kind sir."

* * *

><p>Bonnie Bennett never returned to the brothel.<p> 


End file.
